Read The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1) for Free Online

details of what happened yesterday?"
    "I just know there was a crazy guy with an automatic gun and bazooka shooting in every possible direction, and these two kids got shot and their father was killed. I’m not sure I can add anything else, I wasn't there."
    "I need to talk to both kids to get some details for my investigation."
    "That's not possible today, they were in shock and have had surgery. I can’t let you talk to them today. Also, due to the shock they were subjected to and post surgery medication, they’ll be of little or no use to you, really," Dr. Lockerby stated firmly.
    "Dr. Lockerby, I need to talk to them."
    "If you come over tomorrow around lunchtime, they’ll have had a good, long night’s sleep, and may be more responsive," Dr. Lockerby suggested. "Don't get me wrong, I want you to catch the bastard who killed their father and injured them as much as you do. But their physical and mental health was entrusted to my care and this is my primary responsibility. Please come back tomorrow."
    "Thank you, I'll drop by tomorrow lunchtime."
    "Great, I have a morning shift tomorrow," Dr. Lockerby said finishing our conversation and getting up from her chair. While doing so, she had to pass the coat rack, again with some acrobatics. Chest forward, ass backward. Nice view I thought to myself again.
    "Will you find your way back, Mr. Greystone?"
    "Call me Mike, Dr. Lockerby."
    "Call me Jane, Mr. Greystone, that is, Mike."
    "I think I should find my way back all right, although I admit this corridor is quite long and I might get lost," I said hoping so see her walking like Rihanna again.
    "It's very straightforward, but I'll show you the way. I was always sure men get lost in complex urbanized settings. Women are skilled at orienteering as they train in shopping centers, where they instinctively know where to park to be closest to the target shop. They just know," she responded and entered the corridor swaying her hips in a mesmerizing way. I was looking forward to tomorrow's visit, I must admit.

 
     
    7.
     
    After my visit to the hospital, I wanted to do some shopping. I wanted to buy something nice for Carmela. Our last “date” was interrupted, and I’d promised to make up for it next time.
    I dialed Carmela's number.
    "Hi Mike, nice to hear from you," Carmela greeted me.
    I often used disposable phones with a locked caller ID. I also had a secure, untraceable phone, courtesy of Dermot Clenaghan from Research & Execution. However, for people I knew, it was easier to use my regular phone without a caller ID lock. Well, there was some trade-off. On balancing up the pros and cons, it was better to have your number displayed at the other end, so that the person you were calling would pick up your call (and they were more likely to do so when they knew who was calling). Phone calls could decide your fate. I usually picked up all calls, but, needless to say, I preferred to know who was calling. Only a selected few had this number, so I didn't get time-wasting calls. I used other phones to pay bills and do daily life stuff.
    "Hi Carmela, how are you?"
    "Good, and you?"
    "Fine, thanks. I just wanted to apologize for having to run so quickly from our last get-together," I tried to sound sufficiently apologetic. "I’m still in Pittsburgh and will be here until tomorrow. If you have time, I would enjoy your company today. I'll book a seat on a plane for you. We could have a nice dinner and then continue where we left off last time. Does that sound like a good plan?"
    "I wasn't planning anything particular for today, so I'll gladly come. What time is the flight?"
    "Five-thirty."
    "Great, I'm coming then. Looking forward to seeing you again!"
    I called Martin to book the flight for Carmela for this evening.
    "Hi Martin, it's Mike."
    "Hi Mike, how’s things?" Martin responded.
    Martin Keenan was Head of Operations of my private intelligence unit, my company working for all who could afford my services. Martin was